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Junk Ditch Brewing: a good time a long time in the making…
Tonight was a big night for me. You see, years ago before I ever moved here, I visited Fort Wayne and had dinner at Tolon. On this occasion, my rockstar server chatted me up and ended up recommending that I check out Junk Ditch. I didn’t back then, because I was only in town for the evening. Fast forward a few years to when I moved here, got some Junk Ditch take out, and loved it.
I added them to my list of places I *had* to eat at ASAP. I don’t know what happened– obviously the blame is on me–but somehow I just kept putting it off. That is until tonight: when I went to dinner with a stranger. (Just kidding: her name is Lauren, you might know her as @wallabyknits on Instagram, and while we’d never met in person before we have been Instagram buddies for some time!) Everyone knows that Lauren can knit: but her hidden talent is recommending delicious food. Seriously. She knows what’s up.
Awhile ago she’d told me I had to try the Brussels sprouts from Junk Ditch. We finally made it a reality tonight and, for this appetizer alone, it was worth the wait. But let me rewind for a quick second—because I need to stress how stellar every detail of our meal was, starting from the very tip-top. Before tonight, I’d never been inside of Junk Ditch before. Maybe you haven’t either, so let me tell you: it’s lovely. A casual little restaurant with high ceilings, exposed brick, and gorgeous wooden tables. From the moment you walk in the door, your eyes feast first on the simple, minimalistic, and gorgeous interior design.
Our server immediately made us feel welcome and walked us through the beer menu: did you know they do $4 drafts on Tuesdays?! Lauren took advantage and tried the Dino Party Hazy IPA—it was a hit for her. My favorite local beer connoisseur suggested that I try the Dach Pils. I read a description on Untappd and wasn’t entirely convinced that this was the beer for me: a single mention of hops tends to send me running in the other direction. However, I trust @beerdsNbeer implicitly and knew he’d never steer me wrong. Boy howdy: I might just have a new favorite Pilsner! Freaking delightful.
As for the food, you already know I’m going to say good things about the Brussels sprouts. But before we even got our appetizer, the server brought us a little tasty treat: a sampling of their pretzels and pub cheese. Lauren and I both commented that the pretzels looked, perhaps, a little darker than we were accustomed to—but that darkness enabled a perfectly crisp exterior that gave way to a divinely soft and pillowy interior. The pub cheese was fire, too. I absolutely would order this the next time I go; it’s the perfect companion snack for an excellent beer.
Now for the sprouts: these were quite possibly the best Brussels sprouts I’ve ever had. I don’t say this lightly. I’m a millennial—we are kind of a Brussels sprout obsessed generation. Sorry, not sorry. These sprouts were embellished with feta, pepitas, cranberry and more. Sweet, salty, earthy, and exceptionally delicious—I can’t thank Lauren enough for insisting that I needed to try this dish. It was truly excellent.
As for dinner, we got pizzas—but technically, it was a super healthy choice, because Lauren’s had veggies on it and mine had fruit. Lauren got the Sausage and Mushroom pizza and was kind enough to let me try some. (It turns out, a great way to turn someone from a stranger into a friend is sharing food with them!) Her pizza was covered in an arugula salad: objectively my favorite green. The nom was cheesy, with that unmistakable peppery bite from the arugula. Lots of earthy umami from the mushrooms. The Yuzu Truffle Vinaigrette sharply cut through the other flavors, adding brightness and a little funk. I liked it.
My pizza had grapes on it—a first for me. I’ve had pizza with other fruits: I recall once having one with grilled peaches and really liking this. But this Raclette and Grape pizza was truly goated. I’m a little bit obsessed. Shallots, grapes, balsamic, pistachio—all things I didn’t know I wanted on the same pizza, but they played together in virtuosic harmony. Tight harmony. Five part harmony. The pizza is, in short, a masterpiece. I said what I said. Raclette is a pretty funky cheese. Mixing this with the sweetness of the grapes was seriously exciting for my tastebuds.
Tonight was absolutely lovely. The food, the service, the company: all sublime. If you’re in the Fort Wayne area and haven’t been to Junk Ditch yet (or recently), don’t be like me and keep putting it off: go now. Seriously. Get your shoes on, get in your car, and go! I know I’ll be heading back soon: it’s so good it requires a second taste.
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Catawba Wine: if it’s good enough for the poets, it’s good enough for me…
If you’re in a room full of wine snobs, especially ‘old world wine snobs,’ and they ask you what your favorite wine is–lie. When a pretentious wine snob asks you what your favorite wine is, there are right and wrong answers to the question. Despite what you may like to think, the rightness or wrongness of your answer has absolutely nothing to do with what wines you actually enjoy and everything to do with what makes the wine snob who’s grilling you feel superior.
I don’t like when people ask me what my favorite wine is. Those of us who enjoy wine know that the answer to that question may change depending on the season, the weather, or what we’re eating. When a real jerk of a wine snob asks that question, they’re not really interested in your answer: it’s merely a flex. Our instructor asked the question on the first day of my first WSET class–and it set a tone for the rest of the course because that’s the day that I learned to lie about my favorite wine. If I suspect the person asking me is a wine snob, I’ll typically say “I like Bordeaux,” and then quickly change the subject. If a sommelier asks, because they’re trying to suggest a wine from a tasting menu, I’ll often say, “I like big reds, but I enjoy other wines, too.” But, if you were my very best friend in the whole world, and I trusted you more than anyone in the entire universe, and you asked me what my favorite wine is, I would quietly whisper to you, “Catawba.”
I should feel no shame about my love of Catawba wine–but the butt-holes of the wine world have worked hard to cultivate an environment where admitting that you like Catawba is basically interpreted as lacking real knowledge of wine and exhibiting a pedestrian enjoyment of it. American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow penned an “Ode to Catawba.” If the poets can see the beauty and value of Catawba, why can’t the wine snobs?
Catawba is a “red wine grape,” but it is used to produce a lighter colored wine. It is possible to make white Catawba wine, but most often we see pink Catawba–my personal favorite. An intrinsically American grape, these grapes grow throughout the Midwest and Eastern United States. Wines made from Catawba are often very low tannin, with medium acidity, and medium body–though this will vary by region and producer. Wines from this grape can have a musky or ‘foxy’ flavor, but are often also very fruit forward, commonly with notes of strawberry. Typically, pink Catawba wines are made off-dry to dry. Their hues can range from very pale pink to more vibrant shades of deep salmon–they really run the gamut of the rosé spectrum!
Wine Folly suggests that anything you’d pair with a Coca-Cola could be paired with a Catawba wine. I think pink Catawba is the poster-child of summertime wines: perfect for a picnic or porch-sipping. My personal favorite pairing is Catawba and BBQ, but pizza or burgers are also excellent pairings for this wine. As soon as the temperature starts to climb, I’ve got Catawba on my mind. And if you, like me, enjoy supporting local businesses: drinking Catawba is an excellent way to do it. Looking for a fun, summertime activity? How about a Catawba crawl: visit several local wineries, but only sample Catawba. You could also hit up a local winery for a bottle of Catawba, hit up a local BBQ joint for some pulled pork or brisket, and then take yourself and your favorite cutie-patootie out for a nice picnic lunch.
Frankly, my love for Catawba knows no bounds and I shouldn’t be ashamed of loving it–the only shame I should feel is shame for ever having hidden my love of Catawba. Wine snobs can suck it: Catawba is delicious. Bordeaux blends have their time and place–hell, they’re some of the best wines in the world… but they’ll never be pretty pink, fruity-cutey, sunshine-sippable Catawba wine. I like what I like–and you should, too! -
Apocalypse Burgers: if the world is ending, at least we have good burgers…
Is it just me or have you ever dined somewhere and enjoyed it so thoroughly that you soon fell down a rabbit hole Googling what other food-centric endeavors the proprietors of the restaurant might be up to? This exact thing happened to me after dining at Petite Chou in Indianapolis. If you’ve been following my blog for awhile, you’re probably already familiar with my sentiments on the subject of Petite Chou. For the uninitiated, I’ll keep it simple and brief: I’m obsessed. I never anticipated that, upon moving to Indiana, I’d find a restaurant quite like Petite Chou–one that scratches every single one of my itches–well, nearly every single one of my itches. You see, Petite Chou is a refined bistro & Champagne bar. It’s elegant, yet relaxed–but I wouldn’t call it hedonistic. Petite Chou speaks to the closet Francophile I keep hidden away in a dark corner of my heart: but it does nothing for my angry-inner-teen that I keep locked away in the attic of my ticker. In enters Apocalypse Burger.
The brilliant minds behind Petite Chou Bistro, Won’t Stop Inc., are the same mad geniuses behind Apocalypse Burger. With a tagline reading, “Revenge burgers, spite snacks and general end of the world anarchy,” my angry-inner-teen was immediately awoken and ready for snack time. The name seems to allude to how this restaurant was born: a smashburger concept that arose from the COVID-19 pandemic. My angry-inner-teen believes this is the perfect food to eat along to a soundtrack of Garbage, Third Eye Blind, Fastball, Semisonic, The Pixies, Eels, and Pulp–but, like, you can do whatever you want, I guess. Check out their website and you’ll see a message from your mom. It reads, “UR MOM CALLED & SHE WANTED US TO TELL U THAT CONSUMING RAW OR UNDERCOOKED MEATS, POULTRY, SEAFOOD, SHELLFISH, OR EGGS MAY INCREASE UR RISK OF FOODBORNE ILLNESS.” My angry-inner-teen squeals with laughter and then puts on headphones to blast Portions for Foxes by Rilo Kiley objectively too loudly.
Where Apocalypse Burger differs from other burger joints is that it’s taken the basic concept of smashburgers, fries, and other fast-food-inspired debauchery and elevated it just enough to keep our 21st Century brains and bellies interested. If you’re a gourmand looking for a beef pattie of monstrous proportion, sandwiched between a too-thick brioche bun, and loaded with a slew of unmentionable and unimaginable toppings to the point that you must unhinge your jaw to nom down on the burger: look elsewhere. But if you’re the gastronome who gets excited at the idea of somebody giving you a smashburger with double wagyu patties, manchego cheese, white BBQ sauce, lettuce, pickles, and onions: welcome home. This is where we belong, dudes. This is the place.
Let’s start with drinks: whether you want a root beer float or something a little more adult, Apocalypse Burger has got you covered. My dining buddy got the Apocalypse Burger house beer, which is Bier Brewery Kolsch. It is basically the most perfect mow-your-lawn dad beer that’s ever existed and definitely goes great with a smashburger and some fried sides. I opted for the Ramona Sparkling Rosé and, in truth, it’s probably the best canned rosé I’ve ever had. This is definitely a wine I’d pick up for my own fridge to enjoy as a porch-sipper.
As for starters, AKA Spite Snacks, they’ve recently added Fried Cauliflower and Fried Pickles to their menu. I’ll be honest: when my order of fried pickles arrived at the table (cause there’s no way in hell I’m going to miss out on fried pickles) my eyes were like, “Oh…these look fine,” but upon first bite, my mouth and brain were both like, “These are fire.” We also got their loaded fries: worth it. Topped with a house made cheese sauce, Old Major bacon (IYKYK but if you don’t know that abbreviation you know even less, sorry mom), and scallions, these fries are not for the faint of heart but are also really not to be missed. So good. As a chicken nugget aficionado, I couldn’t exactly pass up on their Chicken Littles. I wouldn’t call these chicken nuggets, but they are certainly chicken-nugget-adjacent. The array of sauces offered by Apocalypse Burger make these little chicken bites a fun snack. Whether you’re dunking in Truffle Aioli, Ranch, or Wasabi Aioli, you really can’t go wrong.For burgers, I went pretty traditional, being that it was my maiden voyage. I went for the Smashpocalypse Burger, which I’ve described in an earlier paragraph. The white BBQ provides just enough tang to keep shit interesting, the pickles and lettuce are refreshing, and the Manchego is rich, creamy, and divine. My buddy got the Patty Melt, which was honestly my plan B order, so I got to take a bite. It was goated with the sauce. For real: patty melts preoccupy me. They’re the beefy bee in my bonnet. I love a good patty melt and the one they’re serving up at Apocalypse Burger isn’t good: it’s fucking fantastic.
If you’re in the Indy area, this is a not-to-be-missed spot. My angry-inner-teen is a little less pissed off after eating at Apocalypse Burger. It’s hard to be pissy when your tummy is full of rosé and smashburgers. Seriously, I urge you to do yourself a favor and get there ASAP. Your angry-inner-teen will thank you for it.
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Spotted Lanternfly Honey: an invasive species has never tasted so sweet
I don’t think it’s particularly divisive of me to say that invasive species aren’t really a good thing. Take the Spotted Lanternfly: after hitching a ride on a delivery of stone, it made its way from its native China to Pennsylvania where it proceeded to cause nearly $43 million in damages. Having previously lived in an infested city, I can assure you, these pretty little nuisances wreck plants–there are about 70 species of plants they’ll happily feast on, leaving a mess of black, soot-like mold in their wake. At the request of the city forester, citizens of my hometown made a habit out of killing any and every Spotted Lanternfly that crossed their path. In the summertime, the sidewalks were practically polka-dotted with the corpses of these pests–and I only wish I was exaggerating.
Despite our best efforts, and the many battles won, though we killed hordes of Spotted Lanternflies, it simply wasn’t enough. By 2019, the infestation had reached the mean streets of Philly. The frenzied breeding of these pests was so rampant that Pennsylvania’s Department of Agriculture asked citizens to destroy egg cases and squash adult bugs on sight. The concerted effort has never been enough to defeat the invading species–I’ve even begun to see billboards warning of these pests in my new home: Indiana.
But hey, maybe it’s not so bad. These nuisances have shown up, wreaked havoc, killed countless plants, caused millions in damage, and spread across several states. Do you know what we’ve gotten out of the deal, other than upset and headache? Honey. Not honey from the Spotted Lanternflies themselves–cause ew, gross and also they don’t make honey–but normal, regular ol’ honey from the bees. Bee’s honey production has been impacted by the invasive presence of Spotted Lanternflies in an unexpectedly delicious way.
It took beekeepers a little while to puzzle together what had suddenly caused an unfamiliar, uniquely smokey, maple-bacon-esque aroma in the honey produced in Eastern Pennsylvania. There weren’t new species of plants for the bees to feast on. Beekeepers sampled the honey, but found it didn’t taste like anything from any of the flowers that would have been blooming at that time. I’d love to string you along for a few more sentences telling you all of the things that it wasn’t, but more than that I wish I could see your face when I tell you what it was that caused the yummy shift in flavor. It was Spotted Lanternfly Honeydew. (Surely somebody reading this just yelled “ew,” but others of you–much like myself when I first learned about this–are probably like, “Well, that sounds cute. What’s that?”) My dear reader, if honey is essentially ‘bee puke,’ honeydew is basically Spotted Lanternfly poop–a sugary excrement that bees love to gobble up.
These new honeys tend to be much darker and more amber colored than honeys collected during the same season in years prior. A smokey, maple-bacony aroma is present in many. The flavor profiles will vary, but tend to be warm and caramelized, with notes of date or fig. I was lucky enough to source two bottles from near my hometown in Pennsylvania. My first bottle is from Philadelphia Bee Co. They’re calling this new flavor of honey Doom Bloom and define it as being a “robust” and “smokey” fall honey. I was also lucky enough to get a bottle of Pocono Apiaries Hot Spotted Lanternfly honey. If you’re a honey lover, or just an all-around foodie, I strongly suggest you find a way to grab a bottle or three. These honeys are unlike any you’ve ever tried before and, who knows, we may never get anything quite like it again. It’s really one of those rare gifts from nature. We often say, “When life hands you lemons: make lemonade.” As it turns out, when life handed us an infestation of invasive species, we made something even sweeter: honey.
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Rough Draft Taproom Requires No Revision: it’s flawless as is
I’ve had several conversations with friends recently about whether certain establishments in Fort Wayne are safe for women to drink at. I hate that these are conversations we feel compelled to have. It truly makes me sad. Despite my desire to always try to see the best in people, the universe constantly reminds me that, unfortunately, not all people are good–and not all people are safe. In times of uncertainty, I try to do as Mr. Rogers so brilliantly instructed: look for the helpers. If you can find the kind people, the silver lining, or the safe spaces, that’s when things don’t look so bleak anymore. This search is ultimately what led me to Rough Draft Taproom, a relatively new Fort Wayne watering hole. I went for the good vibes–no, that’s a lie. I’m sorry. I went for the wine flight–but I stayed for the good vibes.
Tucked away in a freshly painted black brick building on the corner of North Wells Street, Rough Draft Taproom is run by Kyle and Kaylie Snodgrass: both the epitome of kindness. To say that sunbeams shine out of their face holes might be an overstatement, but they do radiate good vibes and make you feel welcome immediately upon entering the neatly renovated space. Kyle is the beer connoisseur while Kaylie can answer any question you might have about the wine list. While Rough Draft Taproom is their baby, it’s not their first rodeo. You may recognize them from earlier days working at Two EE’s. Given their history in the field, you can imagine that their combined knowledge and service skills are not just impressive, they’re impeccable. These are the kind of people that you want running your favorite local watering hole. Beyond how cool Kyle, Kaylie, and all their employees are, the physical space at the taproom is also worth swooning over. They’ve created a taproom that is cozy, welcoming, clean, and enjoyable. I urge you to stop by for a sip of something and to check out the decor–I was personally a HUGE fan of the big, comfy, green couch. There are lots of precious oddities and knick-knacks scattered about to occupy your mind or board games available for fun times with friends. From the moment that I walked into the front door, I felt comfortable in this space. I’m not embarrassed to admit that this isn’t a typical feeling for me. I’m awkward, anxious, and often need a minute to adjust–especially in a new place. But Rough Draft Taproom is so full of good people and chill vibes that it’s an entirely disarming atmosphere. This place could very quickly become a home away from home for me–and I hope for you,too!
I was lured to the taproom through a mix of good reviews from friends and seeing their curated wine flights featured on Instagram. They offer a Sweet Flight, a Dry Flight, and a Summer Flight. Each comes with four ample pours of pre-selected wines and clocks in between $17 to $20 depending on which flight you go for. Though I am typically a dry-wine-girl, the weather recently had me craving something different–so I set an alarm and woke up extra early to get there right at open and try the Summer Wine Flight. It was bliss–but more on that in a minute.
In addition to beers and wines, they offer a pretty thoughtfully crafted selection of coffee beverages and even non-alcoholic options like locally crafted Hop Water. My designated driver sprung for an iced chocolate coffee beverage with cold foam. They topped it with the most precious, little cocoa heart. Truth: this place is worth trying even if you’re not in it for the grownup drinks. The coffee bev was surprisingly complex, leaning more toward fruity and earthy rather than the often overly robust or sickeningly saccharine stuff you’re served at run-of-the-mill, less-than-mediocre coffee places. The surprisingly long list of coffee drinks available, and the shockingly stellar quality of the drink I got to try, are reason enough for me to recommend Rough Draft… and it’s not even why I went there in the first place. So, let me tell you about the things I actually went to try.
Rough Draft Taproom has a variety of noms on offer. Whether you’re in the mood for some Shop260 pastries or you want something more substantial, they’ve got noshes for all levels of hunger. Legalize Marinara is the pizzeria slinging pies from inside the Rough Draft Taproom. On a typical day, they offer a variety of pizzas with different toppings that can carry you from breakfast to dinner. It needn’t matter if you’re vegan or omnivorous: there’s something for all at this spot. As it so happened, my first visit was on Mother’s Day, so a special menu was available to celebrate the occasion. My designated driver couldn’t resist the Pancake Sammy: a grilled sausage patty sandwiched between two pancakes, with a side of maple syrup for dipping–we added cheese like the heathens we are. This sandwich might be best enjoyed by one person as a fun and funky light breakfast; we nibbled it as more of an amuse-bouche to the star of the show. We were the first people to order their The Only One For “Brie” specialty pizza that appeared on their extra-special Mother’s Day menu: pizza crust topped with brie, Granny Smith apple, bacon crumbles, arugula, and hot honey. Some things you might not know about me. My favorite green is, if I’m being truly honest, probably arugula. My favorite cheese is brie. I love apples. Nobody’s ever mad about bacon. (Patently false: vegans. But, I’ll continue…) And, while I think hot honey might be getting just a smidge more attention than it actually deserves, I recognize that it’s popular because it’s good. I feel like this pizza was made just for me and everything about it tickled my personal fancy. The moderately thin, crisp crust served to deliver copious amounts of flavor to my pizza pie-hole. I know that this is not on their regular menu, but I’d very much like to see it return–partly so that others may know the joy that is this pizza in particular–but also, selfishly, so that I may eat it again. If the food that I sampled today is any indication of what they’re serving up every day of the week (and I believe that it is) this is absolutely somewhere I’ll be stopping for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and the occasional yummy snack-time that falls at odd-hours in between designated meals.
Now for the pièce de résistance: the wine flight. The Summer Flight was composed entirely of wines from Indiana producers. A Two EE’s wine even made an appearance on this flight! (I love a celebration of local products. Way to go, Rough Draft Taproom; you’re awesome!) Since moving here, I’ve made a concerted effort to learn about Indiana wines–even going so far as to take a class through Purdue on the subject. Despite my best efforts to try lots of different local wines and my recent visit to the Michiana Wine Festival, while I was very familiar with every wine producer present on the summer wine flight, I’d only previously had one of the wines on offer in this particular flight. To me, this is a big win–because trying new stuff is fun! To begin, I sampled the Dolce Pesca from Whyte Horse Winery. This absolutely divine peach wine is undoubtedly worth a second sip. If I find a bottle out in the wild, I will definitely purchase it to enjoy as a summertime porch sipper–so sweet and refreshing. My second sip was the Vino Rita from Byler Lane. I will be honest–because I think it’s important that we own up to our mistakes and learn from them. Somebody once told me about this wine and my response was “ew.” I love wine. I love a good margarita. Something about combining the two things felt wrong to me. I suppose I imagined that the only way the two things could be smooshed together was by combining the worst qualities of both things to create a truly heinous, ugly baby that nobody would ever want or love. I’m not afraid to say I was wrong. In truth: I am deeply grateful to Rough Draft Taproom for serving me this wine. It came on the rocks and in a glass with a salted rim–not a way that I’ve ever personally consumed a wine before. I feel like this gave me permission to be a little more playful with how I enjoy some of my wines. (First I drink my champagne from a solo cup, now I’m salting the rim of my wine glass. What horribly irreverent thing will I enjoy next?!) As a salt-lover, this was a super enjoyable sip for me and I will be actively seeking out a bottle of Byler Lane’s Vino Rita for my personal hot-weather enjoyment. I’m thinking I may sip it from a salted margarita glass–wine not? My next sip was Two EE’s Catawba–the only wine on the flight I’d had before. (Many times before, if we’re being honest.) As some of you already know: I have strong feelings about Catawba. I don’t want to say too much, as I presently have a blog on the subject in the works. Just be forewarned–I have more to say on this subject, and you’ll have to wait for a later date to hear all about my love affair with lush, fruity, pink Catawba. The last wine of my flight was another Byler Lane beauty: Red Currant wine. This wine is like a sour patch kid: first it’s sour, then it’s sweet. I believe the name on the bottles of this stuff is actually Rebel Currant and, if I’m correct, it’s aptly named. First sip left me literally puckering. This is a refreshing high-acid wine, but man-oh-man, the initial tartness is an absolute smack in the mouth. As you continue to sip, your mouth adjusts and you can really begin to appreciate the perfect balance of tart and sweet that this wine provides. Sipping this wine is really a journey and I enjoyed every minute of the trip. I’m definitely tempted to go back and enjoy the Summer Flight again while it’s still available–though I’m also entirely tempted to try the dry flight–and I’m already wondering if there will perhaps be a delicious Fall Flight available when the weather starts to change again a few months from now. I’m so obsessed.
You may or may not have noticed, but my writing on local places really tends to focus entirely on the positive. This may lead some to question if I have negative opinions that I hold in my back pocket and don’t share on the internet–maybe little things that I thought could be better or an interaction with a server that left a sour taste in my mouth after an otherwise delicious meal. I’ll let you in on a little secret: I absolutely do keep my bad experiences to myself. I’m telling you this now only because I can say with complete honesty that I’ve shared my every thought about Rough Draft Taproom in this blog. There’s not a single negative thing that I have to say about this place. Even if you said you’d give me $20 or a bottle of wine to come up with something that could be done to improve the taproom, I don’t really think I could earnestly come up with any element that required improvement. Even when I search the darkest corners of my mind or the snobbiest corners of my soul for a smidge of dissatisfaction: I’ve got nothing. The people, the place, the plonk–all spectacular. It’s unpretentious and practically perfect. My early morning visit was beyond enjoyable: it really set a tone for my whole day and I’m still riding the wave of happiness that began as soon as I entered the doors of Rough Draft Taproom this morning. I’m of the mind that Rough Draft requires no revision: it’s flawless as is.
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Tacos with Friends: the root of all civilization
As a stoner in my early twenties, I used tacos as currency. In my wild-child years I bought many things using nothing but tacos and charm–some of those things are unmentionable in polite company–but I can share with you that two soft shell tacos once purchased me a beat-up, oversized, striped sweater. (I was going for a sort of Kurt Cobain look and that sweater really cinched it for me: thanks tacos.) While not traditionally used as currency, tacos are really just as much a staple in our lives as the dollar bill. I don’t know when the taco was first invented, but I know that it made its way to the United States sometime in the very early 1900s. The dollar bill as we know it didn’t show up until sometime in the 1860s. In the grand scheme of things, forty years difference is a little blip that comes out in the wash–which means that I can assert that tacos are just as important as our system of legal tender and you can’t tell me I’m wrong because I not only did the research; I did the indisputable math.
So here’s another fun taco fact for you: Bravas teamed up with Rune for a Tacos with Friends night and I got to attend. There were four kinds of tacos on offer with each taco rocking in at $5, which I think we can all agree is more than fair. There were also some not-taco options: including some chorizo rubbed spare ribs, a roasted carrot tostada, and mini chimichangas. As delicious as those not-taco things sounded, I was really personally focused primarily on tacos this evening. The only not-taco thing that I planned to try was one of two shareable options: patotchos. For the uninitiated, these are basically patatas treated as nachos. The fierce little thrice fried potatoes were topped with queso sauce, taco beef, avocado crema, and pickled chiles. Basically, they’re like patatas that got dressed up for a big night out and couldn’t help but serve looks and flavor. As gorgeous as they were delicious, if this menu item ever pops up somewhere again, I urge you to treat yourself.
After a glass of Bravas’s house red wine (Ah-So–so good) and a glass of the evening’s sangria: an intoxicating rosé cocktail served with a slice of orange, some raspberries, and strawberries, I found that I was no longer hungry–but I could still eat. I opted for the chips and guac as a finisher and holy guacamole, am I ever glad that I did! These were house fried chips with legendary guac–simple, pure, flavorful–and a bit of what I think was pickled red onion and melon. My dining companion and I honestly couldn’t decide if it was melon or not. We tossed around some possibilities: apple, radish, who-knows-what. We settled on melon. Maybe we were wrong. Who cares? It was delicious. (Chef Sean of Rune was awesome enough to reach out and let me know that they were radish and celery root pickles. My mind is blown.)
Back to those tacos I’d eaten, because I’m sure you’re all dying to know, there were four killer options: pork belly, “Doner” kebab, beef, and a sort of Indian-fusion vegan option. The vegan taco was filled with vegetable pakora (translation for the uninitiated: battered and fried veggies), a green chutney, and an onion and cucumber curtido. If the word ‘curtido’ is throwing you off: don’t let it. It’s just a refreshing, often fermenty slaw of sorts–in this case, it was pretty big, but thin, slices of pickley onion and cucumber–refreshing AF on what was otherwise a spicy little taco. If I’m being honest, I’m mostly a carnivore type girl who also understands the importance of eating her veggies and occasionally catches feelings for something green. But let me tell you, this vegan taco was stellar. I used to eat Indian at least once a week before moving to Fort Wayne. I haven’t found an Indian restaurant in Indiana that really scratches the itch for me–yet. This taco brought the fusion fire and I’m so glad I didn’t skip it simply because it didn’t offer an animal-protein. Seriously–damn divine.
The “Doner” kebab was a personal favorite of mine; though I’d be hard pressed to choose just one taco to rule them all, they were all so scrummy. Topped with yogurt sauce, iceberg, red onion, cilantro, and schraf chile sauce, this taco was just slightly reminiscent of a tapas item on Bravas’s new menu. It’s one of my favorite items on the new menu, so no surprise that I was kind of obsessed with this taco. But was it spicy? Yeah, for a little baby mouth, this thing was a kick to the teeth. My dining companion asked if I was okay–but I was more than fucking okay. I was riding that semi-spiced high of deliciousness. I was as great as this taco was.
The beef taco was perhaps the most ‘traditional’ of the tacos: but traditional can still be delicious. Comprised of Wood Farms chuck braised in a three chile sauce and then topped with cotija cheese and pickled red onions, this would be the taco to share with your friend who was maybe a little iffy on whether or not they liked tacos. (What kind of weirdo doesn’t like tacos? Like, I try not to judge but, come on…they’re tacos…everyone likes tacos.) This taco was a prime example of a few simple ingredients coming together to make something larger than the sum of its parts. Decidedly the most ‘normie’ of the bunch, but still delivering on deliciousness. Bravas/Rune seriously slay with their taco game. Don’t ever sleep on their buddy pop-ups.
I can’t play favorites, because they were all great, but maybe I kinda sorta had a thing for the pork belly taco. I was sharing my food with a friend (I mean, the pop-up was called Tacos with Friends, after all. Sharing is caring, peeps) and I think the pork belly taco is the one that I hogged the most of–no pun intended, except now that I see what I did there, I take it back and intend the pun. Unctuous pork belly with oyster sauce, a fine root vegetable slaw, gochujang, and chili crisp–this taco brought heat without fire, flavor without compromise, and honestly I’m really kind of obsessed with it. 10/10 would eat all of them again, but especially this one.
As for the “and friends” part of the evening, my dining companion had three different beers and loved them all. Sun King Wee Mac, Heileman’s Old Style Lager (which is a PBR sibling), and Tecate. Of all three, Tecate paired best with the food, but all the beers were basically rad in their own ways. In other friend news, I ran into at least one unexpected person who I totally adore and admire. I got a high five which, other than the delicious food and drinks, was probably the highlight of my freaking night. Tacos have a way of bringing people together like that. Civilizations may crumble, but tacos and friendship will always remain. So, let’s find comfort in the constant that is tacos and friendship–both supremely delicious and in abundance at tonight’s pop-up. Well fucking done all! I can’t wait for the next Tacos with Friends adventure!
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Bravo Bravas!
I’ve never wanted to fight somebody over eggplant before. Enter Bravas, inspiring me to reach new heights of debauchery with their delicious cuisine. They opened their doors to their new ‘weird, Spanish-American restaurant’ at eleven o’clock sharp(ish) on this Tuesday morning. While I wasn’t the first person in the door, I was the first person parked there waiting for them to open–gosh darn anxiety kept me from rushing the door like a crazy person and, perhaps, that’s for the best. I let a nice couple beat me to the door. Their truck rolled into the parking lot after me and, for the record, I just want to be clear that I was there first–Bravas, I’m your number-one, weirdo, super-fan.
A bright, white, clean interior with brightly colored art inspired by travels to Spain; Bravas is the cute, Spanish-American restaurant that the ‘07 needed, but maybe didn’t know they needed. In that same block, Bravas once had a burger and hotdog stand. Sadly, it closed. How the surrounding neighborhoods survived its absence, I’ll never quite understand. Now, they’re back, in a new building, with new cuisine. With tables and a bar made of reclaimed bowling alley floors, Bravas has a vibe that is unshakeable. Seriously: even with first day jitters, Bravas staff are friendly not just to patrons, but to each other. I can’t tell you the number of times I caught staff saying “thank you” to each other–even things like, “I appreciate you.” The abounding kindness, on what was surely a stressful morning, was enough to make my heart melt–don’t even get me started on the dancing cook. Seriously, if you’re feeling at all blue, just grab a seat at the bar and wait. This dude’s boogying is sure to bring a smile to even the sourest of faces. A fifteen percent gratuity is automatically added to checks, to be shared by both front and back of house staff. If you’re the kind of person whose butt clenches at the thought of automatic gratuities, 1) shame on you–we can never be friends and 2) watch the cook dance while serving up delish noms and then try to tell me fam hasn’t earned that fifteen percent.
Bravas is currently operating in “Pilot Mode,” per the paper menus provided. I assume this means we might be able to expect even more delicious cuisine to be offered in the future, but–even with the limited menu they currently have–there’s more than enough to enjoy! Upon entering, water was poured for me and my dining partner. But, if you want more than water, there’s fountain drinks for $2.25 or a selection of draft, bottle, and can beers, cocktails, house wines by the glass, or even bottles. (I already have big plans to go back for a bottle of Cava–and when you’re making plans to return to the restaurant before you even leave, you know it’s freaking amazing.)
To start my dining adventure, I went for a glass of the house red. At eleven o’clock on a Tuesday morning, I couldn’t justify getting an entire bottle of wine–even though my dining partner tried to convince me otherwise. (I love bad influences; they’re some of the best people.) The wine list is inspired by memories and travels to Spain: you can read more about it when you visit the restaurant. For now, all you need to know is that it’s a really delightfully and thoughtfully crafted list. The house red is the Ah So Red–a fruit forward Garnacha wine aged in French oak and served in (hold onto your undies, wine snobs) a can. Bravas is proper and serves this wine up in a glass, allowing you to experience the aromas, but let’s get real, people–this is an organic, canned wine and it’s fucking excellent. Our server was boss and asked if I wanted my red wine chilled or nah–I went with nah, cause it’s a dry red. I did not regret my choice, it was seriously so delicious and incredibly food-friendly. I can’t wait to try more wines from Bravas: a lot of thought clearly went into the selection. I feel beyond spoiled to have a place like this that I can walk to whenever I want to go try some Spanish wine.
Now for the part I’m sure we’re all most curious about: the food. While Bravas is currently serving up some familiar burgers that were previously available on the food truck, and a few other new-to-me sandwiches, what I found most appealing was their decently hefty list of tapas. I love trying new things so, rather than eat a burger I’d previously eaten and regurgitate to you the same old platitudes about how astounding their smash burgers are, I thought it best to go balls-to-the-wall for tapas. So, that’s what I did. I started with the marinated olives and Jamon Serrano: both excellent. The olives are served still intact: pits and all. But, they thoughtfully provide you with an extra plate, so that you have somewhere to put the pits. The olives I had today were served in an infused oil of bay leaf, thyme, garlic, and lemon. (Sorry if I missed anything: but I feel relatively confident that I got it all.) My dining companion was surprised to learn that you can eat the julienned lemon bits: but there’s really no reason that you can’t. It’s tasty AF. The only thing you probably don’t want to shove in your mouth is a bay leaf. Otherwise, if you try the olives, I recommend that you really try *everything* on the plate. As an olive lover, I might be biased, but I found it to be a delightful way to start a meal.
As far as the Jamon Serrano goes, don’t even get me started. It’s just a simple plate of Jamon Serrano, but it’s deliciously meaty and salty. That’s the thing I found about the tapas at Bravas–so many of the plates are simple, with limited ingredients, but the quality is unsurpassed and the flavor achieved is insurmountable. It all comes down to craft. This really became clear to me during the next two plates that I enjoyed: the Seasonal Veg and the Pan Con Tomate. If you speak zero Spanish, allow me to explain that Pan Con Tomate is just bread, with olive oil, rubbed with garlic, and served with some tomato. While eating it, I literally kept uttering, “Bread has no right to taste this good.” Like, dude–it’s just bread. But this bread is beyond magical. Our server blew our collective mind when he was like, “Yeah, and the great thing about the bread is you can kind of pair it with other things, like the Jamon…” I am not being facetious when I tell you that my brain was like, “Oh my god, you CAN do that!” My dining companion topped a slice of the bread with Jamon; it was choice. I dipped some bread in the flavorful oil left behind when we finished the olives—and I’d do it again, and again, and again.
As for the Seasonal Veg, right now it’s fried eggplant with honey and goat cheese. I’ll ask you to recall the first line I penned to open this blog post, “I never wanted to fight somebody over eggplant before,” but when I thought my dining companion was possibly gunning to take more than their fair share of this dish, threats were made. (Sorry, not sorry. The eggplant is more than worth it.) I got aggressive over eggplant and I’d do it again. I didn’t even think I liked eggplant all that much before today. Now, I’ve found an eggplant that I would marry and make beautiful babies with. I kept having this problem–it was a first-world-problem at best–where every time I ate something I’d be like, “Okay, this is definitely my favorite plate.” Then I’d eat something else and say the same thing. I said it about the eggplant: but I also said it about the dish I ate before the eggplant and the dish I ate after. It’s clearly not an issue that only I have suffered with. Our server kept saying every dish we ordered was one of his favorites; but I don’t think he lied to us even once. Everything I tried was just *that* good–so it felt like the best thing that ever happened to me while I was experiencing it. If I was held at knifepoint (I am seriously phobic of sharp things) and had to pick a favorite, it might be the Pintxo Moruno: grilled marinated chicken skewers in a bed of lemony yogurt sauce and topped with vibrant red onion. If you have a baby-tongue and can’t handle heat, you might need to hold somebody’s hand while you eat this, but I think you’ll get through it just fine. It’s got flavor out the wazoo, a smidge of heat, and if I didn’t think Bravas would be slammed enough on their first day without me causing problems as a repeat customer, I’d consider going back tonight just to grab these skewers. (By the way, veggie-holic friends, you can sub out cauliflower for chicken on this plate. So, if you’re meat-free, don’t feel like you have to miss out on this–it’s absolutely one of those not-to-be-missed dishes.)
To close out the meal, we opted for a familiar plate of Patatas Bravas. Can you really ever get Bravas and skip the Patatas Bravas? Those fierce little potatoes are why they started their business: we know them, we love them, we need them to be part of every Bravas meal. As always, those potatoes never disappoint. The tapas-sized plate of Patatas Bravas is definitely more than you’d get in a single serving off the food truck (and rocks in at $12 for the plate) but, for me, it’s the perfect sharing size. Last but not least, the Croquetas; or savory dessert as I found myself deliriously calling it. Perfectly fried exterior, exceedingly creamy interior, bespeckled with Jamon–you can’t go wrong. Unless you hate nice things, there’s nothing to dislike about the Croquetas. Truly, I wish I could have tried more from the tapas menu, but my poor little tummy can only handle so many nom-noms.
To summarize: run, don’t walk. Get there now. Eat all the things. Have zero regrets. Selfishly, I want to tell you not to go, so that I can have it all to myself. The art, the food, the wine: all genuinely brilliant. I can’t recall the last time that I felt so completely blissed out while eating a meal–my monkey-brain released enough pleasure chemical to give me a nice buzz, that’s how good the food is. I would hug each and every one of the Bravas team and tell them how insanely impressed I was with their opening day: they should be beyond proud of themselves. (I don’t know if y’all are huggers but, if you are, hit me up: I owe you hugs.) Bravo, Bravas! You didn’t just do a good job: you knocked it out of the fucking park. You did so well that only one word in the entirety of the English language fully expresses your brilliant achievement. Exceedingly, extremely, tremendously, immensely, insanely, vastly, and excessively simply don’t cut it– it’s fucking delicious.
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Electric Hero: champion of sandwiches
Some days, I like to dine at fancy restaurants, enjoying multiple courses of fine food with thoughtfully paired wines. Other days, I like to wander into little hole-in-the-wall places and gamble on whether I’m about to eat the best food of my life or get food poisoning. One day last summer, I found myself in Holland, Michigan; a beautiful lakeside community with a rich cultural history, gorgeous parks and gardens, picturesque beaches, and a delightful and walkable downtown area.
Despite having a myriad of surely delicious restaurants both downtown and along its coastline, I was in no mood to take the time to sit down and enjoy a full meal. The sky was blue, the sun was bright, and I wanted food that could be enjoyed outside, require little time commitment, and was more comforting than fussy. Electric Hero checked off all the boxes.
You could miss it if you weren’t eagle-eyed and searching for it. Apparently once a gas station, this little sandwich hut is tucked on the corner of a relatively busy intersection. A tiny buttercup yellow building with several umbrellaed picnic tables; not much to see in terms of artistry and aesthetics. But, the sandwich menu is rather large for such a small space. Was I immediately obsessed and positive that I would return on all of my future trips to Holland? Yes and yes. I’ve since been to Holland multiple times and every trip necessitates a pit-stop at Electric Hero.
Sandwiches at this little spot run from about $5.99 to $10.99. On my first visit, my choice was $10.99, which felt fair enough for what I received. I ordered the Bacon Apple Gouda Melt. If you’re not a “Grilled Cheese Purist,” you’ll think of this sandwich as a fancy grilled cheese. (If you are a “Grilled Cheese Purist,” you’ll surely think this sandwich is decidedly not a grilled cheese and I’ll surely think you’re wrong; but c’est la vie!) Sandwiched between two slices of deliciously soft sourdough was nicely crisped bacon, melty Gouda, apple, and hints of sweet, lightly spiced apple butter. I loved it and look forward to eating it again someday; but there’s so many excellent and exciting sandwiches to choose from that I’m still implementing a ‘no-do-overs’ policy when I visit Electric Hero.
With that said, I’ll make two observations and you may personally decide whether or not these things are positives or negatives. First and foremost, the menu noted that my sandwich would have “apple shreddies.” The word shreddies puts me in mind of, perhaps, a thin, matchstick-like cut. I expected thin, crisp strips of apple on my sandwich. I received a sandwich that had small chunks of apple. In terms of texture while eating, there was nothing unpleasant about it; I very much enjoyed the sandwich. But, when I’m told I’ll receive one thing and get something else, it feels worth noting. Lastly, the grilled sourdough bread was grilled quite dark. By my standards, it was bordering on blackened. Someone with more exacting standards may have felt the bread was slightly burnt. Do I think this dark color on the bread gave it excellent flavor? Yes. Do I wish they had not grilled it quite so much? Honestly, no; I enjoyed my sandwich exactly as it came to me! On subsequent visits, my sandwiches have not been quite so deeply toasted–and they’re still exceptional every time.
On my most recent visit, I grabbed the Not Your Grandma’s Rueben; a sandwich I’d been eyeing since my first visit to Electric Hero. The months-long wait for it was entirely worth it. It didn’t matter that it had started snowing heavily and I was facing a dangerous trek home. Turkey, slaw, bacon, a bit of cheese, and a light schmear of guac made me forget all my troubles for a while. This sandwich really only has one thing in common with a traditional reuben: they’re both excellent. In the future, I might ask for extra guac just to get a little more creamy-avocadoness on my sandwich, but that’s just a personal preference and not any sort of indictment on the perfection that is this sandwich. I won’t even lie, I devoured my Not Your Grandma’s Rueben like a ravenous, wild animal in my car before pulling out of the parking lot to start the long drive home. I felt no shame. I still don’t. Every bite was sensational and it was more than worth any strange looks I got from passersby.
Since I live pretty far from Holland, I don’t get to visit Electric Hero quite as often as I would hope. Am I keeping a running list of all the sandwiches from their menu that I wish to try in the near future? That’s my private business and I certainly wouldn’t tell you if the “Pina Cubano” was at the top of the list. If you’re in Holland, Michigan, this is a must stop spot for a quick, delicious sandwich. As someone who really, truly, deeply loves sandwiches, you can be certain that I’ll be searching for any excuse to make the three hour trip back to Electric Hero as soon as humanly possible! Rain, snow, sleet, hail, and my own personal safety won’t keep me away from an Electric Hero sandwich.
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260xRunex2Toms: I only want to live in a world with chicken liver French toast…
Currently, I find myself in the strange place of having a million things that I want to say, yet I find myself at a loss for words. I just had the opportunity to meet some of the kindest, most talented, genuinely beautiful people I’ve ever met in my life and, at the same time, indulge in some of the most delicious food that I’ve ever had the pleasure of feasting upon. Tonight was a special evening, and not just because I got to meet amazing people. Tonight was the 260xRunex2Toms pop-up dinner. I’ve long wanted to try a Rune pop-up dinner. Unfortunately, being relatively new to the area, I’m still learning the ropes. I would often not find out about these pop-ups until after they’d happened or, on the few occasions that I learned about them before they were over, I didn’t have the necessary funds to secure a pricey ticket to one of these esteemed events. Tonight’s event was not just different because it was a collaboration between Chef Sean of Rune and Chef Rio of Shop260 and Brew260 fame–unlike many other pop-up dinner events to happen in Fort Wayne, the event tonight was not ticketed. Instead, the model was first come, first serve–giving all the opportunity to come and taste as much, or as little, as they’d like. I got to 2Toms early, because there was no way I was going to risk any of these dishes selling out–that and when it gets too peopley out, I get weird(er), and I knew this event was bound to draw a crowd. This is the first time that being a weirdo has really ever paid off for me–turns out, the event sold out by 7:00pm.
As much as I’d like to spend paragraphs fangirling over how lucky I was to meet Kyle: maestro of sourdough, Olive: social media guru, and Chef Rio, with whom I had one of the most meaningful interactions I’ve ever had with another human being–this is a food and wine blog, not just a ‘things that make me deliriously happy’ blog. And besides, even if this was just a ‘things that make me deliriously happy’ blog, the food that I ate tonight would still be a main topic. I had high hopes and higher expectations for what I would taste this evening–Chef Rio and Chef Sean surpassed my expectations tenfold and created a meal more delicious than anything I could have ever hoped for. Bravo, bravo, bravissimo, fuck yeah, get it–these chefs slayed tonight!
The menu consisted of seven small plates paired thoughtfully with four different beers and one mead. Obviously, I tried it all–like I would even consider half-assing a once-in-a-lifetime dinner like this. Often, the first course of a tasting menu is good and sets a standard for the rest of the meal, but seldom is it great. Somebody explain to me how these chefs managed to make the ‘salad’ on the menu not only one of the dopest plates of the evening, but possibly one of the most delicious things I’ve ever eaten. The Celery Root Salad with crispy beef brisket and nước chấm was fire. To call it a salad would honestly be reductive; meaty cubes of brisket created a delicious bite amongst the Celery Root Salad dressed in a bright and acidic nước chấm. Paired with 2Toms West Coast AF Pilsner, this easily was not just one of my favorite bites, but one of my favorite pairings of the evening. The straw-colored Pilsner was crisp, lightly hopped, and the perfect sip for this salad.
The Pilsner was also the recommended pairing for the second plate; Potato Gratin. This particular gratin was comprised of russet potato, fennel, and a more than generous serving of Gruyère cheese. If you’re the picky-type to get a little freaked out by eating greens, this Potato Gratin came in clutch to make you feel better with all of its warm, carby, cheesy, delicious goodness. With its ooey-gooey potato-fennel-cheese layers and crispy cheese top, nothing about this dish could disappoint anyone–ever–unless maybe they were lactose intolerant. (Which, in that case, pop a Lactaid and enjoy, my friend! We only live once!) My biggest, and really only, regret of the evening is that I shared too many bites of this plate. I should have been greedy and kept it to myself.
If I say the third dish of the evening was one of the best things I’ve ever eaten, I wouldn’t be lying, but you also might not believe me because I’ve been so complimentary thus far. (Spoiler alert: I have no bad things to say. Buckle in and get ready to read some praise porn.) The French Toast was certainly not your mom’s French toast, unless your mom is an innovative chef making French toast with chicken livers that deftly walks the line between sweet and savory. I’m a girl who loves a pâté but, to be honest, I’d never just eaten chicken liver before so I wasn’t entirely certain how I’d feel about this dish. Turns out, I feel really, really freaking good about it. The Shop260 sourdough bread was transformed into amazing French toast cubes–perfectly crusted outside, yet remaining almost custard-like on the inside. These cubes were accompanied with chicken livers; which added an incredibly creamy mouthfeel and an earthy quality to the dish that typical French toasts simply lack. All was lightly dressed in a lime maple syrup and, holy cow, I would fall in love with anyone who ever served this to me for breakfast–cause mornings don’t have to be *just* sweet. This dish was paired with the only mead of the evening: a Cherry Vanilla Mead. While I typically love mead, this one wasn’t really for me. I’m not a cherry girl. I try so hard not to yuck anything, so I wanted to try this mead even knowing that I’m not a cherry lover. This mead is for those who enjoy a very sweet, cherry-centric sip: it’s co-fermented local wildflower honey and cherries, later conditioned on vanilla creating a sweet, thick mead–almost syrupy in texture. I absolutely see why it would pair well with the French Toast in theory and I’m really glad that I decided to try them both together. I personally wouldn’t do the mead again; but I would eat the French Toast every damn day of my life from now until forever and I’m pretty sure I’d never get sick of it.
Now, real quick, let me shit talk myself for a moment: I have a tiny mouth, a weak jaw, and sensitive teeth. For this reason, like hell are you ever going to catch me eating ribs in public. Tearing meat off of bones with my teethies is an eternal battle for me–one that I am perpetually, humiliatingly losing. I am not a wild animal. I am a sad, weak-jawed girl who struggles to chomp meat off the bone. Needless to say, I was heckin’ nervous about the Spare Ribs plate. But, jeez-o-pete, these ribs were so tender that I suffered zero humiliation and had exactly 0% trouble eating them. The ribs are glazed in a honey, miso, chile BBQ sauce, topped with a subtle dusting of cornbread gremolata, and served with a side of green apple slaw. While eating the ribs, I got some BBQ glaze on my fingers, and had to stop myself from eating my arm off all the way up to the elbow–the BBQ sauce was seriously that succulent. I’d bathe in it–and probably immediately regret my choices because chile and lady-bits don’t mix–but I’d still do it even forearmed with that knowledge. As for the slaw, you already know I’m going to tell you that it was great. Bright, crisp, acidic, everything you could possibly want in a slaw. The green apple was a knockout. The fruit and veggies on this plate are not background actors, extras, or even supporting actors: they are an integral part of an ensemble cast coming together with the ribs to create an exceptionally tasty treat. This dish was paired with the 2Bees Imperial IPA with honey. If you’ve read any of my other beer-centric blogs, you already know I’m not a huge fan of IPAs. So, with that in mind, I’ll give you my dining companion’s take on the beer rather than my own: he wants to go back and get a pint just to enjoy it. As much as he also loved the food, I think this beer was one of the highlights of his evening.
The Pork Belly plate was entirely not what I expected: it was probably the lightest, most refreshing application of pork belly I’ve ever had the pleasure of enjoying. This dish truly felt like a study of how to perfectly balance salt, fat, acid, heat. My lips definitely got some tingle from this dish, but nothing about it was overly-spicy, and it paired dreamily with the newly released Pinkies Out: Why so Blue, Barb blueberry rhubarb Sour Milkshake IPA. Now, as a girl who just a few sentences ago expressed that IPAs are not her drink of preference, I have to say that I would drink this without reservation. It is one of the first and only IPAs I’ve ever enjoyed. If my friend goes back to get a pint of the 2Beers Imperial IPA, I might consider joining him for this Sour Milkshake IPA that is tart and sweet in all the right ways.
Now, for the triumph of the evening: Beef Cheek Ragu paired with the Veraison Farmhouse Lager aged in TwoEE’s barrels. Before going to dinner, I texted my mom to tell her about the experience because I was excited and wanted to share my excitement with her. I sent her a copy of the menu. She replied, “Beef cheek has been a long time coming.” (Cute emojis redacted because some things are just between a mom and her kid.) The lady raised me and she knows a few things about me: one being that I have a deep love of beef cheek. Seriously, beef cheek has no right to be as gosh darn delicious as it is. Anyone who knows me will not be surprised that this was my favorite dish of the evening. An herbed ricotta dumpling dressed in tender beef cheek and San Marzano tomato sauce. To drink, a Veraison Farmhouse Lager aged in Two EE’s barrels and truly serving as the epitome of beer-for-a-wine lover. Named for the onset of ripening for the grapes, this beer is aged in secondary with Grenache and Malbec grape pomace. (For those who aren’t wine-weirdos; pomace is simply what’s left of the grape after the pressing process. The more you know!) If the Sour Milkshake IPA is the beer I want to go back for a pint of, this is the beer I want to take home a growler full of. I know that this was just another pairing on a pre-designed menu that was being served on an evening when nobody really knew or cared that I was going to show up and eat all the food–but somehow this pairing felt particularly serendipitous to me. One of my favorite foods, prepared splendidly, and paired with a beer made for wine-lovers: simply serendipitous. I had this strange experience, that I’m not sure anyone will understand, while enjoying my Beef Cheek Ragu and Farmhouse Lager. I was so completely enraptured with the experience that everything else melted away. The line for this pop-up was ever growing as I dined, the Barrel Room that I had expertly tucked myself away in was becoming more crowded with each passing minute, but I felt entirely alone with my food–and I mean that in the best way possible. I could have been eating the ragu and sipping the lager on a crowded New York City subway car during peak commuter hours and I wouldn’t have noticed anyone around me. It was just me, the Beef Cheek Ragu, and the Veraison Farmhouse Lager–and I loved every precious moment of it. Not to be grim, but I think this is what I want as my last meal. If I ever find myself in the unfortunate position of ending up on death row, I’ll have to call Chef Sean, Chef Rio, and 2Tom’s for the hook-up. This was not just one of the best things I’ve ever eaten; it was one of the best food and beer pairings I’ve ever experienced.
As for dessert, it was great–duh! But when is “bad” ever really a word used to describe any dessert? I think, at worst, dessert can be “meh.” This dessert, however, was far from meh. (I fucked up a little and let the ice cream melt a bit before snagging a photo of this plate–my apologies to the people who worked so hard to craft it.) I’m a pie girl, through and through, but rhubarb pie has never really been my thing. My grammy used to grow rhubarb. Something about her love for it, and constantly trying to force feed me it as a kid, really turned me off of the stuff. The Rhubarb Pie that I tried tonight may have just converted me from a hater to a lover. Tart and warm with a sweet oat streusel, there was nothing not to like about this pie. It was made all the more perfect by the blueberry vanilla soft serve ice cream that accompanied it. Sweet, vanilla forward, with gorgeous swirls of blueberry throughout, this ice cream was perfectly creamy with just a tiny hint of that awesome icy texture that you sometimes get from a homemade ice cream. I loved it. But, let’s get real, warm pie and cold ice cream–is there anything better? Pie and ice cream is an iconic duo and the chefs really turned this basic pairing up to eleven.
To say that I had a good evening would be a vast understatement. Tonight was amazing. The food was sublime. The people were beyond kind. Chef Sean and Chef Rio are masters of their crafts and deserve all the standing ovations, hugs, and accolades that the universe has to offer. If this collaboration never happens again, I am so grateful that I got to be there tonight to experience this delicious union. But, truth be told, I’m going to waste all my wishes between now and forever that I’ll get to taste these superb dishes again…and again…and again…or even just one more time, please. I don’t want to live in a world without chicken liver French toast.
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Country Heritage Winery: Picturesque and Unpretentious
“In the lea of a picturesque ridge lies a small, unpretentious winery, one that pampers its fruit like its own babies.” Many of us have heard this quote before (and then proceeded to nearly pee our pants laughing) but how many of us have been to a winery that was both picturesque and unpretentious. Unfortunately, snobbery and wine often seem to go hand in hand. It’s something that I have many strong feelings about, but I’ll save that tirade for another day. For those of us who love wine, but not the hoity-toity pretense that accompanies it, there is hope. Country Heritage Winery in LaOtto, Indiana offers a picturesque winery, situated on a small vineyard, with none of the pretense.
I was fortunate enough to score tickets to the Winemaker’s Barrel Tasting. After being waitlisted, I received a phone call that there’d been a cancellation and I would be able to attend. At roughly $50 a ticket, this wasn’t an experience I was willing to miss out on. Prior to this tasting, I’d never been to Country Heritage Winery. I’d gotten a few of their bottles from the store, so I had some limited experience sipping some of their offerings in the comfort of my own home, but I had no idea what to expect from the winery. I dressed for a wine tasting which, in my mind, requires something more than what you might wear to the grocery store. Upon arrival, I found myself devastatingly overdressed. Blue jeans seem to be the dress code of most patrons and, given the rustic wood interior and back room full of taxidermy, blue jeans are appropriate for this location. The vibe at Country Heritage is thus: you’re going to drink some amazing wine and you’re going to feel comfortable doing it.
A small group of us gathered in a hallway flanked with accolades and awards that the winery had received. There, we waited in hushed anticipation of what the evening would bring. The tasting was meant to start promptly at six o’clock, which it did. Not dissimilar to the famous scene from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory where Gene Wilder flings open the gates with youthful exuberance and ushers in the lucky golden ticket holders, at six o’clock the doors to the barrel room were opened for our lucky few. As our group filed into the barrel room, we were told what to expect from the evening, what wines we would be trying, and were first introduced to the winemaker himself. Kevin was born and raised in Indiana and makes all of the wines for Country Heritage. He has an amazing nose and can, reportedly, tell if anything is slightly off in one of the fermentation tanks upon simply walking into the room. He will notice the smell and then need to check each individual tank to assess where the smell is coming from and what the cause may be. His philosophy for winemaking is simple and admirable: grow a good grape and let the wine make itself. He was also adamant about one thing that our tasting experience would not be: pretentious. Needless to say, I liked Kevin immediately.
From the Barrel Room, we were ushered into a second room: the walls flanked high with bottle upon bottle of wine. The room, at capacity, could hold 2,557 bottles of wine. On this particular evening, it held somewhere roughly in the vicinity of 2,000. All the bottles in the room were considered ‘reserve’ bottles and would, typically, not be on offer for tasting at the winery. Among the varied array of bottles were two bottles of an oak aged Chardonnay that we did not get to taste. As I understand it, only those two bottles remain at the winery and, according to all who tried it, it was one of the best Chardonnays they had ever sampled. The French oak barrel it had been aged in cost over $1,000 and was sold after this small batch of Chardonnay was made: there were only ever about 300 bottles in circulation. They didn’t know how spectacular it would be until it had finished aging. It made me wonder what other spectacular bottles I was standing in the company of.
In this room, we had our first sip: the 2022 Traminette. This was paired with vegetarian spring rolls. The wine had just been bottled recently. Roughly 1,000 were made. Unfortunately, due to a “deer infestation,” half of their normal crop yield of Traminette grapes was lost. Typically, somewhere between 2,000 and 3,000 bottles would be made: but we’ve learned that deer like ripe Traminette grapes as a nice afternoon snack. For this variety of off-dry white wine, all the grapes used are local and were grown in Steuben County, located in the northeast corner of Indiana. Supposedly, you can see Michigan from the Vineyard. This wine was slightly floral and would pair nicely with any spicy food.
We next entered the production room: a mammoth corrugated metal-type building with massive stainless steel tanks, palettes stacked high with cases of wine, a wall lined with oak barrels, and an intricate looking bottling machine. It was here that we had a taste of Frontenac Blanc with a bite of ceviche. This dry white wine was refreshing, with a nice crisp, citrusy bite and we drank it straight from the tank.
A recent addition had been added off of the production room: with smaller vats and fewer palettes, but still very similar to the production room. Here, we had our glasses filled from a small tank of Cab Franc. This wine had spent roughly fifteen months on oak and was set to be bottled in about two weeks; it’s expected to yield around one thousand bottles. The grapes were purchased from Washington. Cab Franc is very popular in Washington. Country Heritage was only able to purchase a ton of these grapes: so a thousand bottles is all that it will yield. The oak on this wine was subtle and lovely. Paired with charcuterie and Gouda cheese, this was my favorite wine of the evening.
We returned to the production room to sample a very young wine: a wine truly not ready for drinking. This was meant to be part of a learning experience – giving us something to compare and contrast the other wines we tried, that had been aged longer and were closer to being ready for bottling. This brand new Petite Pearl had only been racked once. In age, it was only about four and a half months old. Per Kevin, this wine wouldn’t be ready for bottling until about 2025. It was dry and fruity: simple. It lacked nuance. It was closer to a fancy grape juice than good wine. But, paired with a BBQ Chicken Pizza, it was more than palatable. Having never before been able to sample a wine so early in the process of creation, I was enamored with this tasting. While I certainly wouldn’t want to drink a bottle of young, unfinished Petite Pearl, a few little mouthfuls was a truly exciting experience!
From here, we made our way back to the gorgeous barrel room, where Kevin used an interesting little tool called a Wine Thief to give us all a small taste from one of the oak barrels. The 1231 Red Blend was very tannic and robust: which you might expect from a wine that’s 45% Cabernet Sauvignon, 45% Merlot, and 10% Cabernet Franc. This wine isn’t for the faint of heart or those who only dabble with the idea of enjoying a big red wine. They offered stuffed mushroom caps with this but Kevin said he enjoys it more with a nice steak; and I, too, would prefer this wine with a steak.
Kevin admitted to our small group of eager tasters, “I like food just as much as I like wine; especially together.” Honestly, me too, Kevin. With that said, while the food pairings to accompany the wines were certainly thoughtful, they were very much secondary to the wines themselves. At a wine tasting, perhaps that’s exactly how it should be. Sommeliers will tell you that a truly terrific pairing of food and wine should create a new flavor in your mouth. I wouldn’t say that I experienced that with most of the foods sampled tonight. But, what the foods did do is elevate the wines: bringing out the best in what we were sipping and making subtle notes a bit more obvious to the, perhaps, more inexperienced tasters.
I think that when many of us hear the words “wine tasting,” images of snobbish people sniffing, swishing, and slurping glasses of wine come to mind. Perhaps we imagine self-important people perched at white cloth clad tables discussing ‘notes’ of vanilla, or silky tannins, or any number of silly descriptive phrases that, to the inexperienced wine drinker, may sound incredibly intimidating. The Winemaker’s Barrel Tasting at Country Heritage eschewed this cliché entirely and provided guests with a behind the scenes tour. We spent time where the wine is actually being made, drank glasses poured straight from the tanks, and had a direct interface with the winemaker himself – who was beyond gracious and knowledgeable – and provided us with thoughtful, intimate knowledge of the winemaking process from vine to glass. If picturesque and unpretentious is what you want out of a winery, I can’t recommend Country Heritage Winery highly enough. Often, I find that small, local wineries produce mostly sweet wines – this remains true for Country Heritage, with a large percentage of their bottles falling between off-dry and sweet. At the tasting, I learned that there are more than a few true gems crafted by Country Heritage to satisfy those of us who, like me, and like Kevin the winemaker, prefer our wines on the dryer side. I can say with complete sincerity, I intend to don a pair of blue jeans and head back to the winery as soon as possible. Five samples was plenty for a single evening of tasting, but not enough to satisfy my curiosity entirely. If the wines I sampled tonight were any indication, Country Heritage has a lot to offer. I need to try more; and I simply can’t wait!
Plonk & Pleasure 